Three Times on the Drain Pipe
by WhatBecomesOfYou
Summary: AU. The Shadows have taken over the government, and a small group of people in Tree Hill form a resistance group to fight back.
1. Woodminster's on Fire

**Author's Note: **_AU. No couples yet, although some may begin to show up in later chapters._

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**19:01, January 15: Tree Hill, North Carolina**

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The night seemed darker than usual, the inky black of night unpunctuated by streetlights – the bulbs had been taken out the week before and shattered in the center of town, to make it easier for agents to lurk in the shadows. No moon tonight and the stars were not enough to light the streets of Tree Hill.

She pulled her jacket more tightly to her and swore under her breath, followed by sending up a silent prayer that no one was close enough as to hear what she had said. Even being out this late was possibly the _worst_ thing she could have done, although it couldn't be any later than eight or nine in the evening. That was the first lesson they learned the hard way – late one night, Peyton slipped out against the protests of everyone else, and she never returned.

The optimistic point of view, that some people were taking to delude themselves, was that she somehow managed to get to Charlotte; once in Charlotte, there was a more organized resistance movement, and then maybe she would be back one day to help rescue them all. Of course, the other option was that she had been taken out to the nearby countryside and executed for crimes against her country, but no one wanted to think about that. Not when the next Peyton could be any of them at any time for any reason at all.

After a good amount of walking, and doubling back and taking alternate routes on occasion to confuse anyone who may be watching or following her, she arrived at the safe house they had been using. She rapped three times on the drain pipe by the side door. "The sky is blue," a hoarse whisper from inside said.

"And the sheep are in the meadow," she said in a whisper, rolling her eyes. They'd _really_ have to confer on a better set of code words, she mused to herself, as Lucas opened the door and let her in.

Haley looked up at her from the table, a sheaf of papers sitting around her. "I thought you weren't coming back, Brooke," she said, tapping her pen against one of the papers. "You were taking _so_ long."

"I know," she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down, throwing her jacket on top of Haley's papers. "I got stopped by an agent. Delayed me."

"What did he say?" Nathan asked.

"He asked me 'what a pretty girl like me was doing out this time of night anyway?' and I said it was none of his business."

"Brooke!" a chorus of accusatory voices shouted at once.

"Eh," she said, shrugging her shoulders and allowing herself a small grin. "He told me to watch my sassy mouth and that _next_ time, I might not be so lucky."

"Are you _sure_ he didn't follow you back?" Haley asked.

"I took my time coming back. Took a different way than normal."

"Oh, and that's _really_ going to help if he followed you," Haley said, her voice rising in pitch a little as she picked up Brooke's jacket and tossing it over to the couch. "T.R.I.C. is _not_ going to succeed if we keep making mistakes like this."

"So you're accusing _me_ of making a mistake."

"We don't want you to disappear, not like Peyton did," Lucas said, looking over at Brooke.

"It's always _all_ about Peyton, isn't it?" she said with a sigh. "Anything change while I was out?"

Lucas shook his head. "Mouth has been trying to make radio contact with a splinter group in Woodminster but they haven't been responding."

"Are we sure they aren't double agents?" Nathan asked. "Maybe the Shadows infiltrated them."

"It's possible."

Lucas and Nathan continued to discuss the possibility of the Shadows infiltrating them as Brooke got up from the table. She walked through the curtained partition to the small communications bay they created. One laptop was set up to the internet through a series of wireless networks she didn't particularly care to understand, in order to better mask their location and yet attempt to reach out to the nearby splinter groups. It wasn't always reliable though; there had been scattered grainy radio reports of Shadow agents portraying themselves as newly formed resistance groups and luring other groups into revealing information, leading to their arrests. As well, there was a modified CB radio system positioned against the wall, which Mouth was hovering over.

"Hey," she said.

Mouth glanced up. "Hey there, Brooke," he said with a smile.

"Any updates?"

He shook his head. "I'm only getting static out of Woodminster and my correspondent in Fort Quay isn't responding tonight."

She nodded. "Nathan and Lucas are talking about whether or not we'll be infiltrated."

"Not if we're smart, we won't be."

* * *

**00:43, January 16, Tree Hill, North Carolina**

* * *

Later that night, as the candles lighting the safe house were extinguished – they didn't use electricity except as absolutely needed – and the five of them fell asleep on the rough cots in the sleeping area. Skills took the graveyard shift in the communications bay. He slipped the headphones over his ears and tuned in. There were familiar voices coming across – he recognized some of them from his previous shifts. He followed along in the chatter, chiming in as necessary and notating points for discussion and recap with Mouth in the morning.

A new voice, one he was unfamiliar with, came across the station shortly before one. "Woodminster's on fire!" it screamed. "It's all gone!"

The others fell eerily silent.

Finally, one brave person broke the silence. "Well, _shit_, then, what do we do _now_?"

He remembered meeting one of the Woodminster people once, at a secret rendezvous point in the woods. He had told her the code word if she ever ended up in Tree Hill and needed a safe place to stay.

A part of him thought about waking the others up, informing them of what he had found out, but the part of him that knew that their job would be even tougher now won out. They'd have to enjoy their sleep while they could get it.

Tomorrow would be another day, but they couldn't roll over now. First, Peyton disappears, taking with her a wealth of contacts that could have made their jobs easier; now, Woodminster was gone. He let out a sigh and turned back to his notepad and radio.

What do we do now _indeed_.

-_to be continued_-


	2. Aftermath

**Author's Note**: _Regarding Peyton, her fate will be revealed in a future chapter. This chapter is shorter, but it's a bridge of sorts between the first chapter and the meat of the story._

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**04:32, January 16, Tree Hill, North Carolina**

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Brooke flopped over in bed, hitting the floor hard with the palm of her hand. "Damn," she muttered under her breath, as she stuck her hand back under the covers and hoped no one heard her.

It had been five years of strangled whispers and clandestine meetings. Five years since President Ritchie had been assassinated, five years since Shadows were no longer only what walked along beside you, but everyone's greatest nightmare – three years since everything had crumbled to pieces for her. Her parents had high-tailed it out of the country, something about "not taking risks," and yet, they left her behind.

At first, things didn't seem too different, at least not until prominent people began disappearing in the middle of the night – Dan Scott was one of the first to disappear, only to wind up dead, shot through the back of the head, found on a dirt road about fifteen miles out of town.

The schools were the next thing to change, or, more specifically, the textbooks came back with heavy black bars slapped across sections. Haley had spent hours poring over them, attempting to figure out what was so bad as to be censored so heavily.

They never _did_ figure that one out.

She turned back over and fell back asleep. The sun would be rising in a few hours. Worrying could wait, sleep was too precious.

* * *

**08:03, January 16, Tree Hill, North Carolina**

* * *

Lucas poked a wooden spoon miserably at the egg in the frying pan. It moved slightly, before snapping back into position. "Hey," a familiar female voice said from behind him, "how's breakfast?"

"Hales," he said, putting the wooden spoon down and enveloping her in a brief hug, "it's –"

"Not going well, right, I know," she said, picking up the wooden spoon and going at it with new vigor, "and, there you go! One fried egg." She handed him the plate with an exaggerated flourish.

He glanced down at it. "Thanks."

The scrape of the metallic fork against the veneer of the plate accentuated the stillness of the room. Haley ran a dishcloth through her hands and tapped her foot against the tile. "So –" she started out, before Skills came in.

"Have you seen Mouth?" Skills asked. Haley glanced over at him – he seemed a little extra pale, for some reason. Perhaps it was sleep deprivation.

"No," Lucas and Haley said in near-unison.

"I'm right _here_." Mouth shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a banana from the counter. "What's going on?"

Skills cleared his throat and turned to the small crowd in front of him. "I've already told Jimmy. Last night, Woodminster burned to the ground." His voice was oddly serious, no joking – just calm, even tones, relaying the news. Mouth bit his lip and tightened his grasp on the counter top, his knuckles turning a ghastly shade of white. "The channels were _insane_."

"I'll _bet_," Mouth muttered under his breath.

"Wasn't Woodminster –" Lucas began.

"- where they said they had a source on _Peyton_?" Haley finished.

Mouth and Skills exchanged looks, before nodding solemnly.

"This is _not_ good," Haley stated simply, and everyone could only acknowledge the sheer understatement she had just stated.

* * *

**10:24, January 16, Tree Hill, North Carolina**

* * *

Nathan paced around the living area. News about Woodminster had spread like wildfire – bad news has a way of traveling fast, especially in their present living conditions – and he had been pondering what to do about it since.

To travel was to wave a red flag in front of a bull, so to speak. Then again, many things were red flags; it was a matter of provocation.

Peyton had been their _leader_. She had all the contacts, she had the organization skills, and without her the past few weeks, it had been more difficult than normal to gain a foothold. Any organization without its leader is essentially worthless, after all.

The sun shone in through the old bed sheet covering the hole in the window, and he let out a sigh.

If only they could have been _normal_ teenagers, in a _normal _town, with _normal_ problems, and hadn't grown up like this. Everything would be so much different then.

-_to be continued_-


	3. Radio Girl

**14:49, January 17, near Tree Hill, North Carolina**

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**

Carefully shifting his weight back and forth to be less conspicuous, Lucas made his way down the old bicycle path on the outskirts of town. Plants had grown over parts of the path, and he was careful not to step on any branches or leaves. Tucked inside his knapsack was a notebook written in code and a hollowed out copy of The Giver, with a slender transistor radio situated inside - for emergencies only. The notebook would come in handy, if everything went as planned. It had every other time, but there was no way of knowing if it failed until he was in it to the end.

Once he reached the small, nearly dry creek bed that ran under the path, he diverted his walk to walk along the creek. In the distance, he could see his destination: a ramshackle old cabin that time - and the authorities - had forgotten. After everything that had happened the past few weeks, this would be a welcome, albeit brief, reprieve.

He knocked at the door - once, twice, three times - and the voice on the other side said, "is that you, Luke?" as they opened the door.

"Hi, mom," Lucas said, embracing his mother. "You _really_ need to have a better security system when you're out here."

"Good to see you too," Karen said with a laugh, "Keith and I have a good one at home though, and when's the last time you saw anyone out here _anyway_?"

"The first time could always be the last, you know."

"You don't have to worry about us; we're doing fine."

"The inn is working out for you two, then?"

"You'd be surprised what you'd overhear if you'd listen to people when they think no one's listening," she said, "it's _all_ in here." She held up an identical notebook to the one Lucas was carrying and tapped the cover, and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

"Have you heard anything about Peyton?" he asked. "I thought maybe with you being over in Point Peters -"

Karen frowned and placed her hand on Lucas's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "You know if I heard _anything_ about Peyton, I'd find a way to tell you faster than this."

"I know."

They swapped notebooks; Lucas flipped through the pages of his mother's neat, distinct handwriting and Keith's sloppy scrawl and he smiled. "Thanks, mom."

"Say nothing of it," she said, slipping his notebook into her woven tote bag.

"If we're going to get home before nightfall, we should -"

"Same time next week?"

"Count on it."

"If you ever get a chance to get over to Point Peters, we'd be glad to have you at the inn. Any of you. Dinner'd be on the house, and Keith would _love_ to see you again."

"I know," he said, "I doubt it'd be any time soon though."

"I know," she echoed his words with a sad smile, "but, it'd be nice."

"It would."

He watched his mother walk away from the cabin, heading north - back to Point Peters, back to the life she'd forged for herself in this new society - away from him.

* * *

**19:21, January 17, Tree Hill, North Carolina**

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**

Haley pored over Karen's notebook by flashlight. "It appears as though there's a small group of Shadow supporters based outside of Point Peters," she said, peering closer at the page.

"Is there anything important about the group?" Nathan asked.

"I'm not sure," she said, "I'm still trying to figure that out."

"Yeah, as if we could win in a physical fight anyway," Brooke said, as she played with a nail file. Nathan and Lucas turned to glare at her, as she continued with her statement, "I mean, we're smart and all and we have all sorts of contacts, but we're not the strongest group out there."

"Those contacts are why we _could_ win one," Lucas said, "there's _no_ way to win this war fighting alone; we need them as much as they need us."

"They have weapons," Haley said. "I'm not sure _what_, exactly, but Keith mentions it once or twice."

"All we have are Dan's old gun and those knives you found in the woods," Nathan said, gesturing to Lucas, "our firepower is minimal."

"Are you suggesting that we take on a suicide mission to get our hands on those weapons?" Lucas asked.

"It wouldn't be _suicide_ if we took them by surprise."

Haley and Brooke exchanged a frantic look.

"We leave at sunrise."

"We leave for where?" Mouth asked, walking out of the communications bay, headed for the kitchen. "Is this just a Scott brothers thing, or is it open for anyone to join?"

"We're going to try to take down a Shadows splinter group outside Point Peters - or at least get their weapons," Lucas said. "If you want to join - well, can one of you two take over the radios?" He turned to Haley and Brooke.

Haley nodded. "Yeah, sure, I'll do it. Strength in numbers, after all."

"We leave at sunrise," Mouth repeated.

* * *

**07:25, January 18, Tree Hill, North Carolina**

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**

The three men crept out the door as the sun first broke over the horizon, casting the darkness into light. It was a chilly morning, yet they had to travel as light as they could. It would be an all-day journey, and if they were successful, they'd have more cargo coming back.

Brooke and Haley pulled back the sheet acting as a curtain and watched as they walked off into the distance.

"If anything happens -" Brooke said, wringing her hands.

"It's just you, me, and Skills."

"How long do you think we could last without the guys?"

"We have Skills, for one, and we _aren't_ helpless. If something happens, we contact Karen."

"Okay," Brooke said, with an uncertain tone, "I think someone needs to go be Radio Girl now, though."

Haley laughed. "Radio Girl. I think I like it."

-_to be continued_-


End file.
